


The Unexpected Addition

by afteriwake



Series: A Little Holmes [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 03:19:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He thought Irene would stay hidden this time, but nine months and three weeks is long enough to have a very good reason for returning to London, as Sherlock finds out when Irene leaves their daughter in his care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unexpected Addition

**Author's Note:**

> This is set about ten months after “Pleasure In The Act.” Since that’s NC-17 and I know not everyone reads that rating, just note that Sherlock and Irene slept together once, after he rescued her from the terrorists.

“Sherlock.”

It took him a moment to wake up. He’d had dreams, the fuzzy sort that escaped just as he awoke. “Yes?” he said groggily to John.

“You need to wake up and come out here _right now_ ,” he said.

He blinked and looked up. “Why?”

“You have some visitors.”

“If Mycroft sent them tell them to bugger off.”

“No, it’s _her_ ,” he said. “Just hurry up and get out here.”

He snapped awake instantly. He had not rescued Irene for her to throw it away and come back to London. He had hidden her well enough. Why didn’t she have the sense to _stay_ hidden? He got dressed quickly but made sure he looked his immaculate self. If she was here she had to have a reason. He wanted battle armor on. He had spent many nights wondering what on Earth had possessed him to let actions take the course they did the night they shared the hotel room. He didn’t regret it; rather, he was thankful for it. But she had left and he had moved on. He had hoped never to see her again.

He walked into the room and saw Irene standing there. But she wasn’t alone. There was a sleeping infant in her arms. A girl, judging from the pink blanket. She couldn’t be more than a month old. He thought back quickly. They had been together ten months ago. The timeline fit. Provided she hadn’t been with another man since…

“Hello, Sherlock,” she said.

“Irene.”

“I’m assuming you’ve figured out why I’m here?” she said.

“I can hazard a very good guess,” he replied, staring at the little girl.

“I’m not a mother. I’m definitely not mother material. But…I couldn’t get rid of her, and I couldn’t give her to a stranger.” She moved over to him. “Her father can give her a good enough life, better than one on the run with me.”

“Father?” John asked, confused. “This must be some kind of joke.”

“No joke,” Sherlock said.

“You mean you…? And her…?”

“Once,” he said. Irene was next to him now. “You are positive she’s mine?”

“Yes, quite positive,” she said. “I don’t sleep with men, I just tie them up and do my job. You are the exception. Do you know how to hold an infant?”

“No,” he admitted.

“Put your arms like mine,” she said. He was in a slight daze but he did as she instructed. She placed the girl in his arms. “Her name is Abigail. I have her birth certificate and other things of hers in the bag I’m leaving. You were listed as the father and I gave her your last name. Take care of her.”

“You were wrong,” he said as she moved away.

“How so?” she asked, stopping at the door.

“A mother would do what is in the best interest of her child.”

She turned and gave him a smile. “Don’t try and look for me. I’m going to do a better job of getting lost this time.” And with that, she was gone.

“You have a daughter,” John said as Abigail opened her eyes. She had dark eyes, like Irene, but the shape of them was like looking in a mirror. And she had dark curly hair as well, a darker shade than Irene’s, closer to his own.

“Apparently,” he said as she bunched up her face and began to cry. Sherlock looked at her for a moment, at a loss for what he needed to do.

“Give her here,” John said with a sigh. Sherlock carefully handed the infant to John, who went to the bag Irene had left. There was a can of formula and an empty bottle, and John handed them to Sherlock. “Warm water, not hot. Follow the instructions on the tin.” He went into the kitchen and prepared the bottle. After he was done he brought it to John. “Did you test it?”

“Test it?” he asked.

John rolled his eyes, then held out his wrist and squirted some of the liquid in the bottle onto it. “You got it fine, I suppose,” he said, and he gave the bottle to the little girl. She didn’t toss it to the side and settled in to drink it. “There. That’s not so hard. So. She couldn’t have left a crib or anything else, could she,” he said.

“At least there’s food for her,” Sherlock said, going to the bag. Just then Mrs. Hudson came in.

“I could have sworn I heard a baby crying,” she said. Then John turned to her. “Babysitting for a friend?” she asked with a smile.

“No, that’s my daughter,” Sherlock said.

A look of shock settled on her face. “ _Your_ daughter?” she asked.

“Apparently,” he said, pulling out a birth certificate. Irene had come back to London for the birth, only three weeks prior. He was indeed listed as the father, and his daughter’s full name was Abigail Irene Holmes. 

“But how? When?” she asked.

“Nearly ten months ago, in Dubai,” he replied.

“Who on earth is the mother?”

“Irene Adler,” John said.

“And she just left her here? Poor child,” she said.

“Irene believed a life with me was better than a life on the run,” Sherlock said, continuing to go through the bed. There was one picture in there, of Irene holding Abigail just after birth, and other forms. A vaccination card, a copy of the hospital records…he knew it was important but it told him nothing else that he could use.

“She’s right about that,” Mrs. Hudson said. “May I hold her?”

“Yes,” Sherlock said with a nod.

John handed the baby to her and she smiled at the infant. Then she looked back at Sherlock. “Do you have a crib for her? Or any other necessities?”

“Just what’s in this bag,” Sherlock said.

“I have a crib, left over from my son, bless his soul,” she replied. “But diapers and formula and all that, you’ll have to get on your own.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock said.

“It’ll be nice to have a child here again,” she replied. “But eventually she’s going to need her own room. We’ll have to move some things around.”

“Why would she need her own room?” Sherlock asked. “She’s just an infant right now.”

“Yeah, right now,” John said. “Infants grow into toddlers, then children, then teenagers and then adults who leave your home when they go off to university. You have eighteen years at least before that happens.”

“Do you honestly think you’ll be able to care for her?” Mrs. Hudson asked.

“I don’t see why not,” Sherlock replied. He moved back over to Mrs. Hudson and looked down at the little girl. “If I have help, I can manage.”

“I’ll help you, dear,” she said.

“I’ll help too,” John replied. “But…you and Irene Adler. What on _earth_ were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” he said absently.

“Well, obviously.” He stood up and looked at the papers Sherlock had set next to the bag. “Vaccination records, hospital records…she actually had the baby under her own name, that’s a surprise. And a picture.” He looked up at Sherlock. “Come on. We need to go shopping.”

“Will you watch her?” Sherlock asked Mrs. Hudson.

She nodded. “What’s her name?”

“Abigail. Abigail Irene Holmes,” he said.

“That’s a lovely name,” she said. “We’ll be fine. You boys go get what you need for her.”

Sherlock nodded, then followed John out the door. He hailed them a cab, and they quickly got inside. “It’s a lot of work to be a father, especially a single father,” John said. “You’re going to have to change the way you act or you’ll scar your daughter for life.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You need to be more empathetic, more sympathetic, and you need to not get angry when she doesn’t understand what you want or need from her,” he said. “If I’m going to help you raise her I can model the way you’re supposed to act, but I’m not going to do all the work. She’s your daughter. You need to be the one she’ll go to when she needs a parent, not me or Mrs. Hudson.”

He nodded slowly. “All right,” he said.

“I’ll see about getting you a few parenting books,” he said. “They’ll explain better than I can.”

“Thank you.”

“God, you and Irene Adler,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’m going to get over that for a while. I thought you hated her for her stunt with the phone. Why would you sleep with her?”

“She offered me something I couldn’t resist,” he murmured.

“What, exactly?”

“Submission,” he said.

John got a strange look on his face, and then shook his head. “You are a very strange man sometimes, Sherlock Holmes.”

“I’ve been told that many times,” he replied. “Where exactly are we headed?”

“A bookstore, first, then the market. I’m getting you those parenting books and you’re going to read them.”

Sherlock’s phone rang, and he pulled it out. “Lestrade,” he said by way of greeting.

“I’m at a scene near Big Ben,” he replied. “Come take a look?”

“I…can’t,” he said.

“Why not? What on earth is more important to you than a case?”

“I just found out today that I’m a father.”

There was silence for a moment, long enough that Sherlock thought Lestrade had passed out. Finally, Lestrade spoke. “It’s not April first. Why are you pulling my leg?”

“He’s not joking,” John said loudly enough to be heard. “His daughter’s back at the flat.”

“You’re serious,” Lestrade said.

“Yes,” Sherlock replied.

“I honestly thought—“ He paused. “Doesn’t matter. Any chance you can come take a quick look? Just a couple moments.”

“I suppose we can make a detour,” he said, looking at John. John nodded. “We’ll be there shortly.”

“Thank you,” Lestrade said.

Sherlock hung up, then told the driver to take then to Big Ben. When they finally got there Lestrade, Anderson and Donovan were all staring. Sherlock scowled. “Is it so hard for them to believe I could have fathered a child?” he said.

“Frankly? Yes,” John said. “If I hadn’t seen a child that looks just like you and her combined a half hour ago I wouldn’t have believed it myself.”

“You’re really a father?” Anderson asked as they got closer. “No joke?”

“Yes, Anderson, I really am a father. Now shut up before I send you into the Thames and hope you wash up broken against the shore.”

“I feel so sorry for his child,” Donovan said under her breath, and he glared at her. She turned away and he went up to Lestrade.

“I need to make this quick,” he said.

“Right,” he said. He led them over to where the body lay. “No one can tell us anything, and there doesn’t appear to be a bullet wound on the body.”

Sherlock went to the body and looked at it closely for a few minutes. “Poison,” he said. He looked around and saw a thermos nearby. “Test that. I’d bet the poison was in there. It’s most likely a husband or someone who’s jealous. And make sure they test for levels of poison. From the hair loss I can see it’s been going on for some time.” He stood back up. “Anything else?”

“Congratulations, I suppose,” he said. “Not every day you find out you’re a dad.”

“No, it doesn’t happen every day,” he said.

“What’s her name?”

“Abigail,” he replied absently.

“That’s a nice name,” he said.

“I suppose. It was picked without my input.” He looked around. “Try and keep news of this as quiet as possible, if you can keep those two gossips quiet. I do still have enemies.”

Lestrade nodded. “I’ll do my best, but I can’t guarantee anything.”

“Thank you,” he replied. He turned to John and they left. An hour and a half later they returned home with books, diapers, more formula and clothing for the little girl. They lugged it all into the flat, and found Mrs. Hudson in the common room. She had gotten out the crib and Abigail was asleep in it. “Thank you, Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock said.

“You’re quite welcome,” she said. He went to the side of the wooden crib and gazed down at the sleeping child. “I used the last diaper in the bag so it’s good you got more. Do you mind if I pick up some clothes for her tomorrow? I’d always wanted a little girl, so it would be nice.”

“I would appreciate it,” he said.

“Then I’ll do that,” she said. “You should hold her. You need to get used to doing that.”

“But she’s sleeping,” he said.

“That’s the best time to practice, when they’re not wiggling around.” She gave him a smile. “I think you’ll be a good father, Sherlock. With some practice and some help, of course.”

“Thank you,” he said, carefully lifting her up. She didn’t wake up and he got his arms back into the position he’d seen the others use when holding her. He moved over to the couch and sat down, looking at her. He looked up and saw Mrs. Hudson looking at him, a smile on her face, with John next to her. He looked back down and saw Abigail wake up. “What am I supposed to do now?” he asked.

“Introduce yourself,” John said. “Talk to her. Let her get used to the sound of your voice.”

“Hello, Abigail,” he said quietly. She blinked at him and yawned slightly, but didn’t start crying. She just looked at him intently. “I’m…your father,” he said. “My name is Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes.” She shut her eyes again, and he relaxed. The sound of his voice hadn’t sent her on a crying jag. He looked up again and saw Mrs. Hudson had her hands over her mouth and tears in her eyes, and John looked a bit sentimental too. “Good night, Abigail,” he said to her.

“I think you’ll do just fine,” Mrs. Hudson said.

“Really?” Sherlock asked, not taking his eyes off the infant.

“Start reading those books when you put her back to bed,” John replied. “I’ll go move the crib into your room now.”

“Why?” he asked, looking up.

“So you can be there when she wakes up. I doubt she’ll sleep through the night, and you had best not expect me to wake up multiple times a night to take care of her. She’s _your_ daughter,” he said. He picked up the crib and grunted slightly at the weight, then moved out of the common room towards Sherlock’s room. After a few moments he followed, and when John set the crib down again he put her in it. Then he went back to where her things were and began bringing them into his room with John’s help, putting everything in the corner. “We’ll need to get her a dresser so you can store all these things.”

“Yes, that would be a good idea,” he said with a nod.

“We can do that tomorrow, if Mrs. Hudson will watch her.” John clapped him on the shoulder. “I’d start reading now while you have peace and quiet.”

Sherlock nodded, then selected one of the books, laid down on his bed and began to read. There was a great deal he didn’t know, and he was bound and determined to learn. This child may have come as a surprise, but she was his, and he vowed he would take the best care of her that he could.


End file.
